IF YOU GO

Molokai is served by three small airlines from Honolulu: Pacific Wings (888-575-4546; pacificwings.com), Mokulele Airlines (866-260-7070; mokuleleairlines.com) and Island Air (800-652-6541; islandair.com). Car rentals are available nationally through Budget and Dollar.

The Molokai Ferry (866-307-6524; molokaiferry.com) makes two daily trips between Maui and Molokai.

Mule rides to Kalaupapa by Molokai Mule Ride Inc. (Milepost 5, Highway 470; 800-567-7550; muleride.com; $175) run Monday through Saturday, with check-in at 8 a.m., and the return at about 2:30 p.m.

Coffees of Hawaii (Farrington Highway, Kualapuu; 808-567-9490; coffeesofhawaii.com) is a working 500-acre coffee plantation with self-guided tours as well as mule-drawn wagon tours at 8 a.m. and 1 p.m. weekdays; walking tours are at 10 a.m. A small gift shop sells local crafts and fresh coffee. The Mocha Mama, made with ice cream, hits the spot on a hot day.

The centrally located Hotel Molokai (Kamehameha V Highway, Kaunakakai; 800-535-0085; www.hotelmolokai.com) is an old-style institution with doubles available from about $140.

Molokai Komohana B&B on the west end (70 Kamakahi St., Maunaloa; 808-552-2210) has two guest rooms. A one-night stay is $95; longer stays are $85 a night.

Condos on the far west end may be available for rent (molokai-condos.com or a Web search for Molokai condos).

At Kualapuu Cookhouse (808-567-9655) on Highway 470, Thursday evening is popular prime rib night ($21.95). Mahi-mahi ($18.95) and opakapaka (pink snapper) at $26.95 are local catches, subject to availability. The restaurant does not sell alcohol, but you can bring your own wine. Dinner hours (5 to 8 p.m.) reflect Molokai ambience.

Molokai Pizza (just off Highway 460 in Kaunakakai; 808-553-3288) boasts the best pan pizza on the island, along with deli sandwiches on its own bread.

– NEW YORK TIMES NEWS SERVICE

You've got to really want to go to Molokai, the least visited of the major Hawaiian islands. Its stunning beaches and rugged jungle interior invite exploration, and the tragic tale of its leper colony, where native Hawaiians used to be summarily exiled and a small number still choose to live, inspires an unavoidable curiosity. But hotel rooms are few, tourist amenities scarce and developers actively discouraged. Molokai stands apart from all things commercial, existing on its own terms.

Yet for those of us who live on these islands and remember an older Hawaii – magical, sensuous, isolated – or for those who want to find some sense of how things were on Maui, the Big Island and Kauai before those islands were drawn into the hustle and flow of Oahu, Molokai is more than worth the trouble. Its lifestyle is more traditionally Polynesian, its people reserved but, when their veneer is cracked, warm and full of an ancient joie de vivre.

My flight from Honolulu in October was short – 30 minutes – but not sweet. The single-engine, nine-seat Cessna left Honolulu, lurched and heaved its way above Oahu's valleys, chugged over a tranquil Pacific and coasted on a final straight shot across western Molokai to land at one-strip Hoolehua Airport.

I picked up my rental car at a tiny kiosk in the lava-rock airport terminal. Then I drove to my bed-and-breakfast in Maunaloa on the west end. On a workday Thursday at 5 p.m., I counted 10 other cars on 10 miles of road.

Molokai, which has 7,400 residents, is shaped roughly like a moccasin, 10 miles wide and 38 miles long from east to west. Much of the north shore is impenetrable, with soaring pali (cliffs) pitched straight down 2,000 feet. The south shore harbors many of the historic elements of Molokai's development, including ancient fish ponds, the business community and the main harbor of Kaunakakai. The east and west halves of the island could not be more different. Eastern Molokai has a wet climate and junglelike foliage. The west end is arid with rather uninteresting scrub vegetation. But it is where pineapple growing and ranching – and now tourism – have all had their day. Development has ceased there; Molokai Ranch, which most recently offered visitors lodging as well as horseback riding and other outdoor activities, closed last April after residents rejected a plan that would have allowed construction of 200 luxury homes.

I began in the west. Though it may be poor in scenic value, the west end is rich in Hawaii's mythical history. Puu Nana, in the area called Kaana, is revered by hula practitioners as the birthplace of this dance, which they consider sacred. Annual May pilgrimages celebrate the dance, which the goddess Laka is said to have taught to her people. Molokai is also famous for its kahuna, powerful Hawaiian priests who could either provide life-giving herbal remedies for the sick or pray a healthy person to death.

That first evening, I ate at the Kualapuu Cookhouse, a Molokai institution serving fresh fish, beef, pork and chicken dishes. A bare-bones place reminiscent of a '50s diner, it sports old Coca-Cola decals on the wall. I chose to eat outdoors and shared a picnic table with a family of three. We were serenaded by Bruza Paleka, a ukulele player, and Uncle Chuckie, his sidekick that night, on one-string, gut-bucket bass.

The next morning my host suggested a swim at tiny Dixie Maru Beach at the lower end of a string of idyllic beaches that line the west coast. One of the beaches in this line is Papohaku, two gorgeous miles of 100-yard-wide sandy beach that conveys a feeling of cleanliness and solitude. I ignored the siren call to take a detour and swim there; I had been warned about sharp hidden coral reefs and swift, treacherous rip currents.

Molokai's weekend social scene started on Friday afternoon with music made by nine elderly women in straw hats plucking ukuleles around an extended table at the Hotel Molokai's restaurant. The adjoining tiki bar, only yards away from the tranquil Pacific, conveyed a feeling of timelessness as I swayed in a hammock nearby, one of three catching the slight breeze. The island of Lanai was visible nine miles away. Singing and playing favorites like “Tiny Bubbles” and Queen Liliuokalani's “Aloha Oe” (“Farewell to Thee”), the ladies charmed the mixed audience of locals and visitors with physical grace and gentle sounds.

Saturday morning offers an opportunity to mix with the locals at the farmers market in what passes for a downtown in tiny Kaunakakai. On a short street lined with stands, sellers of fruit and vegetables, T-shirts and crafts peddled their wares in a convivial, relaxed atmosphere. Molokai never surrendered to tourist-first faux aloha spirit: The people here are genuine in spirit and manner. They call Molokai the Friendly Island, but it can turn into the surly island to the outsider who ignores local protocol. The outdoor market is an opportunity to take in the local color and meet the locals on neutral ground.

The southern coast is dominated by 60 ancient fishponds built seven or eight centuries ago. When I spoke during my trip with William Akutagawa, executive director of a local health care agency and an expert on many things Molokai, he explained how the ponds operated. “The Hawaiians knew where and how to attract the prized mullet and other desirable catch,” he said. “They learned that fish were attracted to underground freshwater streams that fed into the ocean, carrying the savory nutrients they craved.” The Hawaiians used lava rocks to surround these areas and trap the fish inside.

The 27-mile trip from Kaunakakai to the far eastern end is a journey that rivals Maui's famous Road to Hana in adventure and beauty. The first 20 miles are normal enough, with fishponds, 19th-century churches and a shoreline with brownish waters and few swimming spots. Murphey's Beach, at the 20-mile mark, is a popular snorkeling spot and a place to find locals spearfishing for dinner while children frolic on the sand.

It's the last seven miles that quicken the pulse as you drive inches away from the ocean on the one-lane road. This last section, which ends at spectacular Halawa Valley, reflects a traditional Hawaii ignored by the tourist trade.

Foliage is dense, and families have their horses and goats tied close to the road. On many of the one-acre plots, gardens and fruit trees vie for space with chickens, dogs, rusted car skeletons and modest homes. Fishing nets and hunting accouterments, including dog kennels, attest to the survival of old ways of finding food; wild pigs, goats and deer are the edible prey. Though food stamps are a supplement for many on this island, taro, sweet potatoes and fish remain staples.

Molokai's north shore has its own distinct identity. I stood at the Kalaupapa overlook, 1,700 feet above the four-square-mile peninsula called Kalaupapa, where native Hawaiian victims of leprosy were isolated until 1969. This was a final stop for them after being torn from their families and everything they knew. The unique community has a small-town New England feel, with tidy churches and modest homes belying past horrors.

Today, Kalaupapa is accessible by mule ride or by hiking the trail down, provided a permit is obtained through the state Department of Health. Only 100 visitors are permitted each day. The view of the village below still sets the mind racing with searing images of lepers being tossed overboard offshore and ordered to sink or swim to the peninsula – never to leave again. Father Damien, the priest and Hawaiian folk hero who worked with the lepers until he contracted their disease and died, is expected to be canonized next year.

On Molokai – even in the Kalaupapa of today, where the remaining residents are full and free citizens – travelers who approach the islanders with respect and a relaxed attitude will be given a glimpse of the old Hawaiian character – easygoing and accepting of nature for what it is. Molokai is an unpeeled fruit, not hanging low. Not easily plucked, but available.

Just don't expect a five-star hotel to impose itself on this tragic, magnificent shore.